The Violinist
by Righteous Llama
Summary: Jeanette Westerhausen came to Paris looking for adventure; but the young Austrian violinist had no idea what was in store. *ALW-based with some Leroux references*
1. A Mysterious Affair

Well, this is my first big project in a long time. Let's hope I actually get to the end of this one. **A word of warning - don't expect updates to come regularly. They will probably be erratic and won't happen too often. Unless, of course, the chapters flow as well as this one.**

I don't own The Phantom of the Opera. If I did, let's just say it would end quite differently... [_coughMegxErikcough_] What? I didn't say anything.

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_**Chapter One – A Mysterious Affair**_

The Paris Opera House was much bigger than Jeanette expected. True, she had grown up surrounded by the grandeur of Vienna, Austria: Her childhood had been spent running through the crowded streets with the other children in a game of tag, learning to dance the waltz, and playing the violin at home with Mother on piano accompaniment and Father grinning cheerfully over his newspaper (her brother Johann would be either doing something artistic or getting into trouble somewhere, depending on his mood at the time).

It wasn't that the Opera Populaire was bigger in size than many buildings in Vienna, Jeanette decided, but that it had a larger presence. Wherever she went in Paris, Jeanette heard something about the Opera: the production of Faust last week, or this soprano, or that ballerina. The very air around her seemed to buzz with excitement and high expectations.

_It has an aura_, thought Jeanette, thinking this to be a very good sign.

Jeanette thought over her options. Being an exceptional violinist would do her no good here, as it was considered improper for a young lady to play in the pit orchestra. She remembered some ballet from her dance lessons, and she could sing well enough. She could be a chorus girl.

All at once, Jeanette was overcome with uncertainty. _What if they say no?_ she wondered, growing anxious. _What will I do then? I left behind everyone I know in Austria._ For a wild, fleeting moment, she considered returning to her beloved Vienna, back home, where she belonged. She imagined her family welcoming her with open arms and loving expressions.

Jeanette was drawn out of her reverie by the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Without even bothering to look who it was, she gripped her suitcase tighter, blew a strand of shoulder-length brown hair out of her face, and marched boldly up to the huge wooden door of the Opera Populaire.

The foyer was almost empty, save for a few stage hands lugging props and bottles of alcohol up and down the grand staircase, and a small group of dancers in full costume standing off to the side. A few of them looked up when they heard the heavy door fall shut with a slam. Jeanette shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their disapproving gazes.

One girl, with long, golden hair and a rosy complexion, gave Jeanette a friendly smile and raised her hand slightly in greeting. Jeanette returned the gesture and approached the dancers cautiously.

"Excuse me," she said to the blonde girl. "Where might one go to join the chorus?"

"You'll need to speak to my mother," she answered immediately. "Follow me. I'm Meg, by the way. Meg Giry."

Meg led Jeanette through a small doorway to the left of the grand staircase and down a few dim passageways before arriving in the backstage area, where a stern-looking middle-aged woman was reading a letter that had been unfolded into three parts. Jeanette was strongly aware of the long wooden cane in her other hand.

The letter was quickly folded again and put back into the envelope as the woman raised her piercing gaze to the girls. Her spine was as straight as an exclamation mark, and she held herself with such an air of authority that Jeanette felt suddenly self-conscious of how awkward and foreign she herself must look.

Meg nodded encouragingly and took a step back. Jeanette inhaled and said, "I would like to join the chorus, madame."

The woman regarded her silently for a moment, her narrow blue eyes calculating. "What is your name?" she said finally, in a thick French accent.

"Jeanette Westerhausen."

"Is that of German origin?"

"Austrian, madame."

"I see. Very well, then. You will call me Mme. Giry. I will speak to M. Lefevre to get you registered. In the meantime, Meg, show Mlle. Westerhausen to the dormitories."

The girls watched Mme. Giry walk purposefully down the length of the backstage, presumably to the manager's office, with strong feelings of relief.

"I think she fancies you," Meg commented, and laughed merrily at Jeanette's incredulous expression.

**- - -**

Just as Jeanette finished getting settled in the dormitories, a short girl with curly auburn hair and a very pale complexion burst into the room. Jeanette guessed it was another dancer, because she was dressed identical to Meg.

"The Opera ghost!" she cried. "We saw him, Sophie and Adelaide and me! He—"

"Goodness, Jammes, lower your voice!" exclaimed Meg. "What about the Opera ghost?"

"We saw him," Jammes repeated. "A shadow in Box Five on the grand tier."

"What Opera ghost?" asked Jeanette, eyes wide in curiosity.

Jammes gave a start and seemed to notice Jeanette for the first time.

Meg sighed. "According to less-than-reliable workmen of the Opera, there is a Phantom that haunts the Opera house, who appears in the form of a man in dress clothes and a mask," she explained.

"A white half-mask that glows in the dark light a ghastly lantern!" piped Jammes, glancing about herself fearfully.

"They say that Box Five on the grand tier is the Phantom's private Box," continued Meg, "so it's never sold at the box-office for performances. And he uses trapdoors to get from place-to-place, so he isn't seen. And," she added, as an afterthought, "he makes the manager pay him a salary."

"A salary!" exclaimed Jeanette. "What does a ghost need a salary for?"

"Because," said Jammes, "if M. Lefevre doesn't pay the Opera ghost his salary, _terrible things happen!_"

All three girls jumped at a sudden loud crash of thunder. Jeanette frowned. The sky had been clear when she'd arrived that afternoon.

"The Phantom of the Opera is just a legend told to frighten us," Meg insisted. "And the shadow you saw in Box Five was just that—a shadow."

"But Adelaide _swears_ she saw the mask!"

"Jammes, you know better than to listen to Adelaide."

There was another boom of thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the room. Various colors from the small stained-glass windows were cast eerily on the walls and beds, before the dormitory was returned to the flickering light of the candles.

"What did you and Sophie and Adelaide do after seeing the shadow in Box Five?" Jeanette inquired.

Jammes glanced at her quickly before responding. "Well, I ran straight to you, Meg," she said. "Sophie went to Mme. Giry, and Adelaide told…well, everyone else. The dancers were in such a frenzy after that, rehearsals had to end early."

Meg shook her head disbelievingly. "All because of a silly shadow! But why, if rehearsals ended early, are the rest of the dancers not here?"

"They all went elsewhere," Jammes replied. "Sorelli took a group to go investigate Box Five. Others went to the chapel, to pray. The rest went up to the higher levels."

More thunder and lightning; the room was once again transformed into an ethereal kaleidoscope of color.

Now Meg turned to Jeanette. "Well, I suppose now would be a good time to show you around the Opera house," the blonde girl suggested.

So Meg and Jammes led Jeanette through the wide halls and dark passageways, around the balconies of the foyer, to the stage, and then up among the rafters above the stage, where all the ropes and masts and pulleys gave her the impression of crossing the worn wooden planks of a ship's deck. After that, they decided to venture up to the roof, where they were met with dismal gray clouds and a light drizzle.

Back on the ground floor, Jeanette was shown the stables and the—now empty—Gothic chapel on the southern end of the building. Meg and Jammes were careful to stray from the trapdoors and all entrances to the lower levels. Amazingly, they came across none of the other dancers, and guessed that they had all made it back to the dormitories. So that was where the three girls went, the tour at an end.

Jeanette was delighted with every aspect of the Paris Opera House; but even so, she could not ignore the sound of soft footfalls that seemed to follow them from within the walls themselves.

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That was the first chapter. I myself am rather proud of it. FEEDBACK, PLZ!! =) YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! *puppy-dog face* Come on...do it for Erik.


	2. Contemplations

Considerably shorter than the last chapter. But it's supposed to be that way.

Thanks for the review! It really means a lot. And the story's kind of AU (it's in a world where Christine and Raoul don't exist), but it has many similar elements to the movie/musical.

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_**Chapter Two – Contemplations of the Phantom of the Opera**_

Meg Giry was mistaken. The Phantom of the Opera was, in fact, quite real.

He had been the shadow in Box Five, which had caused such an uproar; he had been the footsteps following Jeanette's tour of the Opera house; and now, he was hovering in the rafters above the girls' dormitory, listening to the ballet rats give the Austrian girl her welcoming criticism.

The curious thing about the Opera ghost was that he was not a ghost at all, nor a Phantom; he was a human, of flesh and bone. His name was Erik, and he was many things: architect, musician, composer, magician—and later, a teacher. But that wasn't to happen for several months.

Erik watched from his perch as the dancers swarmed Jeanette. He was secretly impressed with her ability to respond to their condescending questions and comments with an admirable politeness and straightforward honesty, while still managing to remain loyal to her country without offending theirs. She seemed to gain a bit more respect when it was revealed how she had grown up in the great musical city of Vienna. Erik had never been there, though he himself was an exceptional musician and had composed several pieces for piano and violin, but he'd heard of the splendor of Austria's capital, and found himself growing rather envious, to his dismay.

Despite her favorable origin, Erik lost interest in the girl quickly. There was simply nothing remarkable about her: she was rarely late for lessons; she more or less followed the rules; she wasn't heart-wrenchingly beautiful, or a spectacular singer. Jeanette did have a sharp wit, and she was rather pretty—Erik had to admit to that.

Several weeks later, the Phantom was sitting in a small enclosure beneath one of his more concealed trapdoors, which happened to be underneath the floorboards of the backstage area. Conversation drifted down from above, sounding slightly muffled and distorted to Erik's sharp ears.

Erik was slouched against one of the walls, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deeply. Anyone else would have thought he was asleep, but he was merely listening intently. A white mask covered the right half of his face.

It so happened that at that moment, the light filtering through cracks in the floorboards was blocked by someone standing directly on top of the trapdoor. Erik glanced up, recognizing the voices of Meg and Jeanette. But this was nothing new, and he was settling back into a passive state of mind before nearly giving away his presence by jumping to his feet at Meg's next remark:

"You play the violin!" she exclaimed, sounding awed.

"Well, I used to, when I lived in Austria," was Jeanette's reply.

_Jeanette played the violin?_ Erik tried to recall if she had ever mentioned that piece of information before, but drew a blank. He ran a pale hand through his dark hair, straining his ears to hear more, but the girls were walking away now, out of earshot.

_A violinist!_ Ever since he'd arrived at the Opera Populaire so many years ago, Erik had longed for someone with whom he could share the joys of music: someone who understood music's sweet seductiveness; someone who had felt, at least once, when they opened their mouths to sing, or played their instrument of choice, as if there were only music and nothing else. Someone…someone like him.

Of course, the chances of that had always been slim—but Erik had a feeling that this girl was special. Why he thought so was a mystery, even to him. But the Phantom wasn't the sort to pass up such an opportunity, and so, then and there, he resolved to attempt to speak to Jeanette, as soon as an occasion presented itself.

In another week, he got his wish.

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-_gasp_- What's gonna happen next? Review please!


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